Writing a New Ending
by MusicMajor22
Summary: My take on the end of season 4B and beyond. Starts with "Poor Unfortunate Souls", and begins with filling some August-centric plot holes and other missing scenes I wish had happened. Canon through Season 4 finale, then pure speculation on where Season 5 may take us. All the characters we love, and some twists along the way.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello Everyone! So, I have a new one. It's actually a rewrite of my previous "Writing a New Chapter". I wrote the first draft when it was rumored that August was coming back. Now that he's returned, this is my take on the rest of season 4 (starting with Poor Unfortunate Souls) and beyond. Canon (though with plot fills for the August gaps. Seriously, where has he been these past few episodes), then pure speculation to get us through the summer hiatus.**_

 _ **Finally, I have to say, I really have no idea where this story will take me. I will admit that when Once first started, I was team WoodenSwan all the way. Then, when he was put through the wringer in 1 and 2, I grew to love CaptainSwan. So, I honestly don't know where I'm ending this one. Going to see where it takes me! This intro chapter is mainly August-centric, but others will fill in as we go along. As always, I love the reviews, especially with a new story! Thank you all! Wish I owned these characters, but I do not!**_

"Welcome back, August," Gold's voice called out, prompting August to open his eyes. He felt odd, tingling all over, pain radiating through his joints, muscles, whole body. When his eyes opened, they widened slightly as he took in his surroundings. He saw Gold, surrounded by four women. Regina he recognized, but the look on her face was all wrong. Instead of the twisted and villainous grin he had grown to become accustomed to, she wore a look of pity that flashed away as quickly as it had come. Maleficent he also knew from the storybook, and tales he had heard as a young puppet. The other two he knew as Cruella and Ursula, but knew nothing else about them.

His eyes moved back and forth, his mind reeling.

"Let us begin," Gold began. August was dismayed to find himself bound to a chair, and the glint in Gold's eyes predicted an unpleasant future for him. He tried to figure out what the last thing he remembered was. He remembered Tamara using the taser on him, and trying to warn Emma about her before his world went dark. He was fully clothed, but he felt different. A part of him vaguely remembered being a young boy again, almost as if it was a dream. He sensed that he had spoken to Regina and Emma not long ago, but he could not distinguish if it had actually happened. And if that dream had happened, he remembered not really knowing Emma, only knowing her as "the sheriff". To August, it seemed unlikely it had happened. He did remember speaking with Mary Margaret a long time ago, or so it seemed, and he had been shocked and worried about Neal's reappearance. Sure, Mary Margaret had said Neal was engaged, but he had known that it was his fiancé who had somehow disabled him. The feelings he had had for Emma could not have been erased by reverting back to a boy (if it were even possible), could they? His mind was going a mile a minute, trying to put the pieces together, and struggling to pay attention to what was going on around him.

"I don't know anything about this Author!" he argued, in response to more questioning and prompts from this group of villains keeping him hostage. He was slowly beginning to think that his dream of being a boy was not a dream. It would possibly explain why it felt like his body was being stabbed, and his breathing hitching. Going through a 20 year growth spurt in only seconds probably wouldn't be a cakewalk. He tried to fight through the pain by thinking of Emma and his father. Hoping that his Papa was alright, and that Emma would come for him. He knew that he had to start thinking of distractions quickly, buy him, and Emma, some time.

Though he had tried to send Gold on a wild goose chase to a trailer that he knew didn't have any research in it, he knew that the chances of Gold falling for it would be slim. He was surprised, however, as Regina came to sit beside him. She spoke in hushed tones, and he could almost detect a hint of goodness in her speaking with him. The dream-like boy memories he had floating in his head were confirmed when she showed him the page and he instantly recognized Robin Hood. He knew that he had to have been a boy before, as he would not have known that man otherwise. He still did not trust her, however. He recalled her yelling at him when he was Pinocchio, not giving her the answers she wanted. He had not had a lot of experience with her as a child, but his memories of her when he had last been "August" did not paint her in a good picture.

As August had expected, Gold had not fallen for his lies, and while Gold's jab at him being a "born liar" had stung, he had not been prepared for Gold's retaliation at being given bad information. He had tried so hard to keep his mouth closed, grinding his teeth together in an attempt to strengthen his tightened jaw. What would the potion do to him? If he turned into wood again, would he remember all that was going on? If he was temporarily shrunk down to the boy again, would he remember Emma or his Papa?

Unfortunately, August hadn't been strong enough. The potion had burned down his throat and the effort to fight the opening of his mouth had his weakened and struggling lungs fighting even harder.

In what seemed like a blinding flash, August wanted to scream. The pain he had remembered from his joints turning to wood a few years before when he had first come to Storybrooke had been nothing compared to this. He knew his whole body was simultaneously turning into wood. His mouth opened slightly to scream but it couldn't, his lungs and heart hardening. He could see the look of glee in Gold's eyes.

The transition to wooden Pinocchio hadn't lasted long, but it had done its damage. He took a deep, painful breath, releasing the air slowly, and lifting his eyes to meet Gold's. Gold mentioned a "built-in lie detector", and August, not wanting to show fear or unease had casually lied about not knowing what it was. He was suddenly overcome with migraine-like pain and his eyes widened as his nose grew. When Gold whipped him around and put his nose to the fire, he knew he had to start giving some answers, hopefully vague enough to protect himself, and the heroes. The first attempt or two did nothing as his nose grew even further, the smoke now filling his lungs as he breathed, his nose turning red and burning fiercely.

He began to explain about the door, his breathing short and pained, his eyes trying not to convey the exhaustion and aching he was feeling. He would not give them the satisfaction of knowing they'd won. He gave them the information about the door, telling them every detail about what it was, what it looked like, but he made sure to cleverly hide one important detail. Hiding, it seemed, did not cause him to suffer the same consequence as out-right lying, and for that, he was grateful. They decided to let him be, pull him from the fire, and bind him again to the chair, with Cruella as the faithful, and ironic, watchdog.

"Thank Heavens that potion was only temporary, Darling," Cruella drawled. "The scruff is so much more attractive than the timber." August ignored her. He was tired, and Gold hadn't been lying when he said everything would hurt. His lungs hurt from the smoke inhalation and the turning to wood. His body was still searing with pain, from what exactly, he wasn't sure. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his weariness wash over him.

The door suddenly burst open and August unwillingly opened his eyes. A blonde-haired woman had blasted the door open. Her back was to him, but he hoped it was the woman he had so desperately wanted to see. A part of him knew that they had just spoken only a few days prior, but, that had been Pinocchio talking, and Pinocchio processing, totally unaware of how August had cared for and about Emma Swan. He didn't even register what Emma was saying, and only stopped his thoughts about her when Mary Margaret had come from the back, knocking Cruella out with a frying pan.

"Nice one, Mom," Emma had said, proud. August's heart swelled a bit. Last he had known as August, Emma was still trying to accept having parents. Hearing her call Mary Margaret "Mom" was heartwarming and relieving that he may not have screwed up too badly in the past, in regards to the curse. Emma turned around, and August's breath caught. His last time viewing Emma as the adult August was as he had lay dying in her and his Papa's arms. Her hair seemed longer, her face older than he had remembered. And while she definitely looked bad-ass at the moment, there was a softening in her features that he had not remembered seeing. She rushed over to him and kneeled down so that she was at his eye-level.

"August, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" His eyes lit up at the level of concern in her voice. He looked into the green eyes he had missed and tried to drink in her features. Truth was, he was not alright. He still struggled to breathe evenly, and his body hurt. He felt that he could drop at any moment. He let out a light sigh as he felt Emma's steady hand on his shoulder. He pulled the strength he could to answer strongly.

"I'll survive," he said, hoping to convince her. She looked into his face and those words hit her. For the briefest of moments, she had totally forgotten about Killian. It was the word "survive" that caught her attention and reminded her that Killian was off somewhere, alone, trying to return Ursula's happy ending. She set the thought aside for the present, ready to revisit it once August was out of harm's way.

She got back to her feet, and flicked her wrist, removing the ties binding August's feet, a small smirk on her face, waiting excitedly for his reaction. August couldn't believe his eyes. The woman who wouldn't believe not only had accepted her role as a Savior, but had also embraced her magic. He rubbed his wrists trying to soothe away the pain from the tight binds that were just there, as well as the pain that was continuing to surge through his body.

"I see somebody's been practicing," he said, both in slight disbelief and in amusement. She smiled at him slightly, her response already planned out.

"Well, I seem to remember someone telling me I just needed to believe in myself." The banter was familiar, friendly, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of them in that room. No villains, no parents, no outside world. It was her and August. She felt something in her reawaken, a feeling that she hadn't even known she had lost. _Friendship_. She had her family, and she had a boyfriend, and she had complicated semi-friendly relationships with many in Storybrooke. But August had been a real friend. Someone she cared about fully, who she had never properly mourned because something bigger was always at stake at the same time.

"I always knew you'd figure it out," August sparred back, giving a small grin in return. He was tired, he was hurting, but she didn't need that responsibility. He was overjoyed just to see her again, the way he loved seeing her best: as an equal. Both adults, both with gritty pasts, both with weaknesses. He had missed the way her eyes flickered with emotions even though the rest of her face was impassive. He missed the way her tongue was as sharp as his pen could be. She had come a long way, he could tell, and was anxious, when he was feeling better, to fill in the gaping holes in his memory, with tales of her adventures and growing into the role of Savior.

He was surprised when Emma suddenly dropped to her knees, resting her hands carefully and gently on his legs, looking him straight in the eye. Concern, worry, and a glint of happiness in her eyes gave her emotions away, and August knew she had his full attention.

"It's good to have you back," she began. "Even if it isn't the way things were supposed to be…" she trailed off. She still wasn't great at showing her feelings, but Killian had helped her to realize that letting down walls once in a while could be a good thing. "I'm glad I didn't have to wait 20 years to see you as you again," she finished quickly. But August saw it all and understood her meaning clearly. Again, ignoring the torment his body was going through, his eyes twinkled briefly as he realized that she did care for him, and he thought maybe there would be hope after all.

"Me too," he said simply, willing his resolve to stay strong, even though he wanted to crumple and succumb to his current physical condition. He was brought out of it quickly by Emma's hand resting on his cheek as she looked into his face intently. What she was doing, August didn't know. He did know that it took everything he had not to nuzzle his cheek into her palm. He didn't know what her situation was at the moment. He thought he remembered Neal dying, but everything was a little fuzzy to him.

Mary Margaret and David awkwardly stood to the side watching the whole scene play out. David was extremely confused. He had not known August well, having been in a coma much of the time before the curse broke, and then not really knowing anyone due to the amnesia the curse had brought. By the time the curse was broken, he only had had one experience with him, and that was August's "death". But he knew the look that August was giving his daughter, and he could tell by Mary Margaret's expression that she did too. August was hanging onto Emma's every word, looking at her with nothing but admiration and respect. Mary Margaret smiled as she saw Emma's hand rest onto his cheek, knowing that her daughter needed to be reassured that her friend was back. But Mary Margaret was also concerned. She remembered August much more, knew how much he cared for Emma. And she could see a triangle forming, with her walls-up defensive daughter in the middle. She was curious and worried to see how it would play out.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," Emma said, helping August to his feet. The door burst open revealing Ursula.

"No one is going anywhere," she commanded, and August let out a sigh, wanting nothing more than to collapse back into the chair. But he knew that if they had to make a quick getaway, he would need to be ready to go.

"Where's Hook? What did you do to him?" Emma commanded, her face growing red.

"Your boyfriend is fish food," Ursula replied, before encasing Mary Margaret in a tentacle. August felt defeated. 'Boyfriend'? Of course he remembered seeing Captain Hook in town the past couple years, but didn't care to know much about him. It surprised him that Emma would even think of being with a pirate. He didn't bear any ill will toward the man, but to say that he was disappointed with this news would be an understatement. He was completely drained. He propped his foot up on a stool, resting his arm on it as he watched, well, half-watched all that was happening in front of him.

He was surprised when Captain Hook came through the door, bringing Ursula's father, Poseidon with him. He did not appear to be the same villain August remembered reading about as a child. Dressed in modern clothes, a will to set things right, and eyes only for Emma, August knew he had lost once again. He tried not to dwell on it now. He felt his eyes drifting closed, and he struggled to remain awake.

Before he knew it, the group had noticed that Cruella had disappeared. David insisted they head out before Gold and Cruella returned. August let out a breath of relief, wincing slightly. It truly was like revisiting his slow and agonizing transformation back before the curse broke. His lungs were struggling, his limbs were stabbing with pain, and stiff like they had been years before. Ursula and Poseidon left, and David gestured for him to go on ahead. He attempted to move forward, and his hip seemed to freeze and he stumbled. He felt someone's hands behind him, steadying him.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emma's worried voice said softly to him, her hand coming to sit on August's arm. He could only manage a pained and whispered, "I'm okay", before being led out by Emma's parents. He had hoped that Emma would immediately follow behind him but she remained with Hook.

"August? Are you alright?" Mary Margaret asked, the mothering concern August recalled seeing when they had their talk in his trailer. David took over in helping August make it to the truck.

"Just a little off," August mumbled, grimacing again.

"When we get you back to the loft you can lie down," Mary Margaret continued. August halted his unsteady movements.

"The loft? Aren't I going home to my Papa?" he knew he sounded childish, but he needed his father to help him process all he had just been through. Mary Margaret looked at David.

"Marco is going to meet us at the loft with some clothes and a few of your things. We filled him in on everything we knew until we arrived to the cabin. Unfortunately, you know too much. We need to keep you with us until we figure out their next plan. I'm sorry." August just nodded. Really, as long as he was able to meet with his Papa, to make sure he was okay, he didn't really care where he went. He was too tired to care.

They arrived to the truck and David helped August into it, August suppressing a shiver. He couldn't wait until he could rest. David started the truck and began to drive away, knowing that Emma was safe with Killian. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his brain. Killian had lived more than one lifetime of misery, before finally finding happiness with Emma. But he knew that, at least now, villains did not get happy endings. He only hoped that August wouldn't be the one to prevent the former pirate from getting his.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: I am so sorry for the delay on this! The past few months have been absolutely crazy. But, I am hoping, as I did with my other story last summer, to post fairly regularly. My plan is to take this from 4x16 onward, filling in gaps, and then speculation for after the Season 4 finale (which I am still processing!). As always, I am grateful for any and all reviews! Wish I owned these characters, but I do not.**_

As August was led out of the cabin by her parents, Emma was distracted by the look on Killian's face. He looked almost distraught, his face masked by something Emma couldn't quite place. Fear? She knew he had been afraid for her when she was trapped in the ice cave with Elsa, but she had not seen it. He always seemed to partly worry about her wellbeing now, but if she was reading him correctly at the present, this desperate and fearful look, while still stoic, was frightening for her as well.

"Hook? What's wrong?" she saw him turn towards her, the small muscle in his cheek twitching. She continued to prod. "You gave Ursula everything she wanted." That seemed to strike a chord in him.

"But I almost didn't, love," he started quietly, disgust showing in his eyes. "I was so desperate to find out what the crocodile was planning, I almost became the man I used to be. You have no idea how easy it is to fall back into the darkness," he added bitterly. She could see that he was mad at himself. He had been working so hard to become the true Killian Jones once again, that this minor toeing of the line into vengeance was affecting him more than Emma could have thought. She looked into his eyes, hoping he would take what she had to say to heart.

"Whatever mistakes you made with Ursula you fixed," she said, trying to reassure him of his path. Her eyes slightly filled as he turned his head away from her for a brief moment.

"Aye, but it's a stark reminder of something."

"What?" Emma pressed.

"With all this talk of authors and the book, we've never discussed one fact." Emma wanted to question him further, but knew that he had to continue on his own. "I was a villain." It broke her heart to hear that some piece of him still believed he was a villain. That he hadn't been changing his path, his life, for the better.

"But you're not anymore," Emma began, trying to comfort him.

"Neither is Regina, but she still lost her happy ending." His eyes bore right into hers, and Emma couldn't handle looking into the tormented depths of his pair. She looked down, anxious about where the conversation was heading, and thrown off guard by Killian's demeanor. He continued.

"If we are to believe the rules of the book, then it's only a matter of time before I lost mine." He struggled to get that sentence out. He so badly wanted to tell her the three words that he knew he felt for her. But, he also knew that she wasn't ready. Wasn't ready to break down the remainders of her walls so expertly built around her heart. His words grabbed her attention, as her eyes continued to shine. She knew she shouldn't have to ask, but a small part of her needed to hear it. Needed to be reassured that she was truly in a relationship with a man who, without a doubt, wanted to put her first. She raised her tear-filled eyes to meet his once again.

"Wait, if you're afraid of losing you're happy ending, that means you found it," she said slowly, her eyes searching his. She willed herself to have the courage to continue. "What is it?"

If it were even possible, Killian looked even more tormented. He couldn't believe that she didn't realize, didn't understand how important she was to him. He almost didn't want to say it, for utter fear that she wouldn't feel the same way. But he knew, after all they had been through, that she needed, and deserved to know. So badly he wanted to say those three words, but he chose a more colorful way to answer her question. His eyes filled as well, even thinking about the possibility of her not being in his life, being too much for him to bear.

"Don't you know, Emma?" he began, his breathing and voice betraying him and shaking. "It's you."

Emma had no words. She had hoped it would have been something involving her, but now, hearing the words, she didn't know what to say. All she knew was that she needed to feel him, have him close to her.

Killian waited with bated breath. He didn't know how she would react, how she would take to hearing that she was his happy ending. Before he could even say anything more, he felt Emma's lips upon his own. Even though she was not ready to yet verbalize her reciprocation, Killian knew that she cared for him immensely.

They stood like that, savoring each second of pleasure, both suddenly now aware of the limited time they could have left together. Eventually, out of breath, Emma broke apart from Killian, her eyes still not leaving his. She took a steadying breath to compose herself, a hardened look now in her gaze.

"We're going to figure this out, Killian. You're not going to lose your happy ending, and Regina is going to get hers back. Now that we have August, he might be able to help us learn more about the Author." Emma paused for a second, finally remembering August's return once more. A puzzled look formed in Killian's eyes.

"So, that man, 'August', you said his name was? Last night he was Gepetto's son? That little red-headed boy, Pinocchio?" Killian asked. Emma sighed. The whole situation was hard to explain, and would take a lot of time, time she did not currently have. She now was concerned with talking to August.

"Yes," she began simply. "Before you came to Storybrooke, before the very first curse broke, August arrived on his motorcycle." Killian gave another confused look, but decided to ask Emma what a "motorcycle" was another time.

"We hadn't known but he had come through the wardrobe to this land before me, with the intent to keep watch over me. But, he hadn't. Not until he began turning back to wood did he try to seek me out. He became my friend."

"And why would he know anything about the Author?" Killian questioned. He wanted to know more about this man. He saw the way that Emma's face grew concerned as he staggered towards the door. He knew he couldn't press too much, but he felt a little uneasy.

"August was a writer as well. He was able to write his own story and add it to Henry's storybook. I don't know how he did it, but maybe, because he can write like that, maybe he knew or was taught by the Author. That's what I need to find out." Killian just nodded. It all made sense. He knew that Emma wanted to find the Author, especially before the villains did. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Maybe we should be getting back, love," he said quietly, his eyes still pained.

"Yeah, you're right. You wanna come back to the loft with me?" she asked, a small smile on her face, trying to ease the tense look on Killian's. He cast his gaze downwards.

"Thank you for the offer, Swan, but no. I think I'll head back to my ship, now that I have it back, check to see that everything is as it should be." Emma's eyes grew wide.

"Your ship? The Jolly Roger? It's back?" She was stunned. Last she had known, he had traded it for a magic bean. A magic bean to bring him back to her. Killian suddenly realized that she didn't know all that had transpired between him and the sea witch.

"Aye. Turns out it was imprisoned in a bottle after Blackbeard misused it. With a little magic it was returned to me." Emma felt oddly disheartened. Was she not enough for him? With his beloved ship back, would he feel as tethered to stay near?

"That's it?" Emma asked, knowing there had to be more to the story. Killian smiled against her hair.

"For now, Love. I'll tell you the rest of the tale another day. But, while you go talk to your friend, I'm going to assess whatever damage may have come to my ship."

Emma couldn't help herself. "If, if you go sailing, please be careful," she said sadly. She truly wanted to ask if he was planning on leaving town, leaving her. He grinned again, a small, sad smile.

"I'm not going anywhere, Emma. Not unless I'm given a reason to." He knew what she had been asking, and a part of him was still frustrated that she was so self-deprecating that she didn't realize how special she was to him. "Come on," he said kindly, wrapping his arm around her and leading her out of the cabin. "I'll walk you home."


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Here's the next chapter. After I get through "Best Laid Plans", I will be jumping forward a little more quickly. Again, I have no idea how this story will end at this point. I have an idea, but I have to see how it can work with how I think Season 5A will play out. As always, I love the reviews-would love to beat the reviews from my other story, "Home is Where the Heart Is"-which is totally CaptainSwan centric.**_

Mary Margaret glanced back to the man resting uncomfortably in the backseat every few seconds. The ride back to the loft was not horribly long, but walking had not been an option, and Killian and Emma seemed to want some time for themselves. Mary Margaret relaxed with that thought. She knew how charming August could be, but in a way unlike Killian's. She wanted them to have time together, to refresh Emma's mind of how much (though she may not admit it) she cared for the former pirate turned hero.

"Did you call Marco?" David asked his wife, his eyes on the road. Mary Margaret noticed August's eyes opening slightly, a dazed look in them. She answered quietly, hoping the man would fall into a doze once more.

"He's going to meet us at home with a few of August's things, clothes and items that were kept. He's worried about the possible damage. I think once August sees him, he'll perk up a bit." David finally looked in the rearview mirror and saw the former boy, twitching in a restless sleep.

August barely heard what they were saying. He was so tired. Opening his eyes was a chore, breathing was tricky, and pain still radiated through his body. He didn't know exactly why he felt so awful, all he knew was that it was worse than the first curse. He couldn't wait to see his Papa, however, and hoped that he wouldn't be disappointed to have once again lost his "little" boy.

Once parked outside the loft, Mary Margaret and David were both needed to help August out of the car. He sighed as he saw the stairs he would need to climb, but Mary Margaret squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and David gripped him a little tighter to help him make it upstairs. The trek, while short, took time, and many stops to rest. August wanted to scream just from the pain of breathing, not even including the physical exertion.

When they made it to the apartment, Mary Margaret unlocked the door, and David led the man to the couch by the window, settling him down into a sitting position. August so badly wanted to just lay down, but knew that would frighten his Papa unnecessarily. Mary Margaret noticed the man shivering through his thin shirt, and draped an afghan around him.

"David, can you go to Granny's please and get Neal and Henry? I'll stay here with August and wait for Marco," Mary Margaret asked, though her eyes told David that she wanted to talk to August, one on one, as she knew the man better. David nodded, came over, gave his wife a brief kiss, and then walked back out of the apartment. August followed her with his eyes as she put a kettle on the stove and then moved to sit beside him.

"Are you doing okay?" she questioned him, the mothering side of her coming through. His quietness was answer enough for her. "What hurts?" August sighed. He didn't want to answer. He was no longer a child, and he didn't want to show Emma that he was weak. He knew that in telling Mary Margaret the truth, he would be babied.

"I'm going to be fine," he answered vaguely, his voice sounding smaller than he had hoped. A hand was placed on his shoulder.

"August, listen to me. You don't have to worry about impressing Emma. You've had a rough day from what we heard. She's not going to see you as weak or defeated." August didn't want to comment on that. Instead, he blurted out what he had so badly wanted to ask earlier.

"How long has she been with the pirate?" he asked, his eyes betraying him. Mary Margaret groaned inwardly, removing her hand from his shoulder and placing it in her lap. She knew she wasn't going to get him to rest or take it easy until she either answered his questions, or Marco came in, whichever happened first.

"A while now. Hard to say exactly when they became official. At least the last two months or so. But there was a lot leading up to it." His face grew dark, and Mary Margaret would be lying if she didn't say that she felt bad for him. "I know what you were hoping, August. But, Killian's a good man now. He loves Emma and has been good for her. She's slowly letting us all in, and I think it is in large part to him."

"But what about Neal?" Mary Margaret's eyes grew wide. Didn't he know? As Pinocchio, he may not have cared, or known who Neal was.

"August, Neal's dead," she answered slowly. Now it was August's turn to look shocked.

"He's dead? When did this happen?"

"Months ago," she began. "When Pan's curse took us back to the Enchanted Forest after Rumplestiltskin's sacrifice, Neal and Belle set out to find a way to bring him back. Zelena, or, the Wicked Witch, tricked them into bringing him back, but, it came at a price. Neal and his father were basically fused into one being. Whoever was in charge at any given time, determined the form they took. When Emma finally found him, he was in so much pain that he demanded to make his own sacrifice and have her separate them. He believed that his father had a better chance at protecting the town from Zelena. Only Emma and Gold were there, but she doesn't talk about it much. I don't think he lasted long, and from her silence on the matter, I think it was painful for her to witness." August cast his eyes downward. He had always thought he would be thrilled to have Neal out of the picture, but, not in this way. And it wasn't even going to help him with his caring for Emma.

Before he could even say any more, there was a knock on the door, and August knew it would be his Papa. He was relieved. Not only because he desperately wanted to see his father, but also because once he left, August could finally rest.

Mary Margaret went to the door and opened it, revealing a very anxious and worried Marco. Marco stayed in the doorway, wishing to speak to her, even though he really just wanted to rush to his boy.

"How is he? Is he okay?" Marco asked, glancing to the man sitting on the sofa.

"I know he is in pain, but he won't tell me what is bothering him. I'm hoping he just needs to rest. And he seems to be a bit chilly," Mary Margaret answered, her voice low.

"I brought his old leather jacket and a few of his other things. Is it totally necessary that he remain here? I want to take him home to recover."

"Unfortunately, he knows too much. Regina is going to come over later to put up a protection spell around the apartment. Between that and when Emma comes home, he'll be safe here. You can come whenever you want to. I'm sorry, Marco. But we need to keep him away from Gold and Maleficent." Marco nodded sadly.

"I understand. Can I see him?"

"Of course you can," Mary Margaret said, leading him into the loft. Marco immediately went over to August and sat down beside him. Mary Margaret kept herself busy in the kitchen, making hot chocolates for when Henry and Emma came home.

"My boy," Marco greeted, his voice strained with emotion. "My son, are you okay?" August couldn't help but to lean over and hug his father. His own eyes grew shiny as he realized again how lucky he was to still be alive, to be able to have a relationship with his father, even though it, once again, was not going to be the way it should have been.

"I'll be fine, Papa. Just a little tired," August lied, thankful that the potion Gold force-fed him had run it's course. Marco nodded his head and pulled back.

"Let me truly look at the man you've become, Pinocchio," Marco announced. While true that Marco had worked with August in his shop just a few days before the curse finally grabbed a hold of August, and then again when August had been an adult puppet, Marco had never really looked at August as his son.

"I'm sorry, Papa," August said, shame filling his eyes. Marco looked at him sharply.

"For what do you have to be sorry for?"

"I never got to tell you how sorry I was for not taking care of Emma like you asked, for turning to wood again. And now, not being Pinocchio anymore." Marco placed his finger under his son's chin and tilted it towards him.

"I have told you, there is nothing to be sorry for. You are my son, no matter the age or form." August shivered involuntarily. Marco noticed, and pulled August's old backpack off his shoulders.

"Here. I have brought what I could find from the last time you were a man. Would you like help getting changed?" August wanted to say 'no'. He wanted to be able to stand up, walk to the bathroom, and change himself. But, as each second went by, he was in more and more agony. His chest began to hurt, his lungs and heart included. All he could do was nod. Marco shot a nervous look at Mary Margaret. Marco stood up first, and placed his arm around his son.

"On three," Marco added, counting, and then hoisting August to his feet with surprising strength for his age. August temporarily blacked out as he swayed on his feet. He tried to regain his stamina quickly so as not to further worry his father.

They made their way unsteadily to the bathroom, and August was literally no more than a puppet. His father spoke calmly to him as August put on some of his old clothes: loose jeans (to accommodate his changing-to-wood body), his dark grey sweater, and his leather jacket. He did feel warmer, but that was the only positive difference. Marco led August back to the couch and got him into a laying position. All August wanted to do was sleep, but he didn't feel right doing so with his father there. He felt Marco take a hold of one of his hands, and it was as if his father could see through the mask he had on and knew that his son desperately needed sleep.

"Get some rest now, Pinocchio, my August." The name felt foreign on his tongue. A name he had not chosen for his boy. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

Though part of him feared dying as he slept, August's eyes drifted closed, unable to remain open any longer. Marco brushed back his son's hair, noticing that he was running a bit warm. He pressed a kiss to August's forehead, before arranging August's arms in a more comfortable position. He stood up and joined Mary Margaret in the kitchen.

"I think I will be going now, let my boy rest, and get some sleep myself. You will watch out for him?" Marco asked her.

"Of course we will," she comforted. She led him to the door, and locked the door behind him. Keeping a frying pan close, she pulled up a chair to sit beside him, and waited for her husband, children, and grandchild to come home. She noticed a slight sheen of sweat upon his forehead, and realized his breathing was a little irregular. She decided to keep a close watch on him until Emma came home.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks again, readers! To restate, this is heavily August-centric right now, but I am having a feeling that where this is going, it is going to greatly involve just about everyone. Thank you again for the comments, I truly take them to heart and sometimes they spark an idea that totally re-routes my story (which I love). Til next time!**_

"Mom," Emma's voice called out as she, Henry, David, and the baby came into the apartment. Mary Margaret temporarily blushed as she realized that she dozed off herself. She stood up quickly, greeting her family at the door. She could see Emma and Henry looking past her at the man resting on the couch.

"How is he?" Emma asked her, her forehead creasing in worry. Mary Margaret tried to keep her voice low.

"I'm not sure. He seems a bit…off. Marco was here earlier and had to help him change into some of his old clothes. And he seems to be running a slight fever. He just appears to be exhausted."

"After the day he had, can you blame him? Getting knocked out as a boy, and waking up a man is enough to mess with anyone, and who knows what else Gold did to him," Emma answered. "How long has he been asleep?" She desperately wanted to talk to him, but knew that he needed time to recover. Mary Margaret looked at her watch.

"About a half hour. I dozed off myself," Mary Margaret admitted, looking ashamed.

"While it's quiet, why don't we all rest a bit? It's been a long day already. When August is awake, then we can figure things out," David suggested.

"You guys go," Emma began, "I don't want to leave him. I'll keep an eye on him until he wakes up." Henry came to stand beside her.

"I want to stay up too. I've missed him." Mary Margaret and David nodded at the other pair, and they took Neal to the upstairs bedroom to give Emma some time and space with August. Once Neal was settled, the two fell asleep almost instantly.

Henry walked over to August and sat in the chair that had previously been occupied by Mary Margaret, and drew his storybook out of his backpack. He set it down on the coffee table, and his gaze rested on August. A look that Emma couldn't quite place crossed the boy's face, and she stood beside him, also looking at the man.

"Henry, what's wrong?" Emma asked, seeing her son's expression darken.

"I don't know. It's just, I never thought I'd get to see August as 'August' again, you know? The last time I saw August real, he was almost gone. He had backed out of Operation Cobra. He didn't say the words, but it was a 'goodbye'," Henry explained, his eyes not leaving the former puppet.

"When he 'backed out'? When was this? The first curse?" Emma asked. Henry nodded.

"Right after you tried to take me out of Storybrooke. I came to him, desperate for help. But, it was already too late. His legs and arms had turned to wood, and he looked pretty sick. He told me he couldn't help you, that nothing he had tried worked." Emma looked guilty. She had been so adamant about resisting even the idea of magic and the book being real. She hadn't taken into consideration how it affected others. Henry continued.

"And then, by the time you broke the curse, August had changed back to a puppet and disappeared. I never got a chance to thank him for all of his help. Or at least for trying." Something was still lurking in Henry's eyes.

"He'll be okay, Henry. He has to be." Before she could say any more, Regina came into the loft, unlocking the door and entering with her magic. She surveyed the space, and her eyes, as everyone else's had, rested on August, still sleeping on the sofa.

"We're lucky he's okay," Regina said, worrying about how Marco would have handled his son being killed.

"It wasn't luck, you had gotten us that message. Thank you," Emma said, sincerely grateful that Regina was becoming the hero Emma knew she could be.

While Emma and Regina talked about Robin and New York, Henry resumed his research. Opening up the storybook, Henry began looking at each page, and especially paying extra attention to the page with a door on it.

August, in the time of his father leaving, had drifted into an uneasy sleep. If anything, he felt worse than he had before. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He vaguely heard Mary Margaret's quiet snores, and then the rest of the Charming family coming in, going in and out of consciousness.

It was when Regina came in that August was a bit more alert. He could hear them talking about New York and Robin, and he could sense Henry sitting beside him, the pages of his book scraping quietly as he turned them. He wanted to open his eyes, but he didn't seem to have the strength. He put all of his efforts into opening his eyes, the rest of his body stiff. With a few tries, his eyes opened, and for a moment he just looked at Henry. The boy was concentrating, unaware that the man he had been watching over had awoken. August was always amazed at the boy's level of focus, and at his good heart. August felt hot, but didn't have the energy to take his coat off. Finally, Henry noticed that the man's eyes were on him.

"Mom!" he called out, drawing the attention of his two mothers. Emma looked over at the couch, and grew worried at the almost dazed look August was giving her, and at the way not a single part of him was moving. She moved towards him, placing her mug on the coffee table and sitting on the edge of the couch, her one hand on his leg, looking into his face. He seemed to grimace a bit as his head slightly shifted to look over to her. He took a shallow breath.

"What is she doing here?" he said, breathily, and Emma knew he was talking about Regina. She remembered that August wasn't aware of the full transformation Regina was currently trying to undergo.

"It's okay, I promise," she said, trying to comfort him, nervous at the wary way he looked around at his surroundings. He let out a sigh of relief as his hand first grasped, then rested on his chest. A pain in his heart caught his breath for a moment, and while moving his hand caused him agony as well, he tried to use his hand to calm the painful throbbing of his heart. To his delight and surprise, though he couldn't express much joy at it, Emma's other hand rested on top of his own, over his heart. Regina came further forward then and bent down, herself stricken by August's current state.

"August, we need to talk about how I'm going to keep up my cover with Gold," she began. August's mind reeled. Regina being with the villains was part of a plan? It was hard for him to believe, to remember how awful she had been when he had first entered Storybrooke. "The only reason I was able to come here was because they think I'm stealing this page." She held up the page of Henry's storybook with the ornate door drawn upon it. "We didn't find the door in the sorcerer's mansion."

So that was it. August felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he had been hoping to tell someone the truth. He took another breath to steady himself.

"That's because it's not there," he answered, with a pained yet mischievous look in his eyes. He was loving the feel of Emma's hands on his own, and his arm. For a moment, the trio saw the old spark of August.

"What?" Henry asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"But you said you didn't know where the door was, and your nose didn't grow," Regina argued, confused. Her voice matched the looks on Emma's and Henry's faces.

"My nose didn't grow because I wasn't lying. When Gold asked me where the door was, I didn't know because I didn't know where Henry was keeping this page," he elaborated, pointing his finger at the sheet. He didn't want to, but he was too excited to share this last puzzle piece. With sweat glistening across his forehead and breathing shallow, he rolled onto his side, looking at Henry and Regina.

"Regina," he began, "this isn't just an illustration." He paused to take a breath-it was getting so much harder to keep up the façade. "This…is…the door. The author…is trapped inside the book." He finished, using his index finger to point to the drawing. He leaned back slightly, a satisfied look on his face. Now, if whatever was happening to him actually killed him, at least a few people knew the truth. His eyes closed briefly, before he fought to push them open again. Henry was looking at Regina, but Emma only had eyes for him.

"I think that's been enough for now. We should let you get some more rest, okay?" Emma asked him, her hand returning to sit on top of his. Her other hand helped push him back onto the pillows before it brushed the matted down hair from his forehead. She frowned, making a note to bring him a cold compress once she got back to the kitchen. She made to stand up, when August's hand grasped hers. It was slight, she almost didn't even feel it. She smiled at him and squeezed back, August trying to remember the sight of her face and the way her eyes sparked. He frowned as his eyes finally closed, and he wondered if she would ever know. To her, that gesture was a mutual exchange of caring between friends. To him, it was a confession, one last chance to express himself, in case he didn't wake up. He felt the darkness overcome him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

Henry wasn't really paying attention to his moms discussing this latest discovery in the kitchen. His focus was directed at the storybook, looking at the door on the page with interest. He couldn't see how there was actually a _person_ stuck behind it, entrapped within the book.

A rasping sound drew his gaze away from the door. August was twitching, violently in his sleep, short and erratic breaths coming from his chest. Henry set the book down quickly, and leaned forward towards the man.

"August?" he asked, but no answer came.

"August!" he called out again, this time shaking his shoulder. The man did not react, but Henry recoiled at the heat that seemed to be radiating from him.

"Mom," Henry tried to grasp their attention. His hand lay upon August's arm, and Henry could hear the breathing weaken even more.

"Mom!" he called out again, this time with more desperation. Emma and Regina stopped their discussion and looked at him.

"What is it?" Regina asked, slightly annoyed at his interruption.

"Something's wrong with August," he informed them, looking back down at the man. Regina sighed inwardly, knowing that all he had been through would have to have consequences. Emma rushed over to him and gripped his shoulder.

"August?" she asked, anxiously hoping for a response, but none came. He continued to shift his head back and forth, answering nothing, his skin hot to the touch, sweat still gleaming on his forehead. Trying to keep her mind calm, she faced Regina.

"We need to get him help." Many things happened at once. Henry packed the Storybook and the page in his backpack. Emma ran up the stairs two at a time and roused her parents. Leaving the baby upstairs for a moment, Mary Margaret and David met the group back downstairs. Regina could only watch. She was to blame for this. She had willingly gone over, even as a double agent, to the villains. She had kidnapped Pinocchio, she had watched as they tortured him, and had done nothing.

David walked over to August, shaking his shoulder.

"August!" he called out loudly, trying to wake him. While not rough, he shook him with more urgency. He looked at Emma, whose resolve was beginning to crumble.

"Do, do we take him to the hospital?" Emma asked, her voice small and strained as she watched her friend slipping from them.

"I don't think this is something medicine can fix," David answered her. "Whatever this is, probably," and he looked at Regina. She looked at him and nodded, knowing what he was about to say. He continued. "Was caused by magic. I think we need to get him to Blue." David bent down and placed his arm around the sick man and pulled him forward, supporting him in a hunched over position. "Henry?" he called out. Henry came forward, terror etched in his face. He felt a strange connection to August, always had, and he felt that it was before the first curse all over again.

"Go to his other side," David instructed. "We need to get him up. Hopefully we can both carry him." The two lifted and with August being dead weight, they all ended up crashing on the couch.

"For heaven's sake," Regina interjected. "You two can't carry an unconscious man like that by yourselves. I think between Emma and I we can transport him via more creative means." Emma just looked at her. "You can do it. Just focus on the convent, and I'll direct us."

"Can I come?" Henry asked, desperately wanting to travel by magic, and wanting to stay within eyesight of the former puppet. Regina looked at his face, and her gaze softened.

"Of course you can. Just hang on." Emma looked quickly at her parents.

"We'll stay here with Neal. Let us know when you know something. If you need us, we can be there quickly. We'll hold off on calling Marco until we know more," Mary Margaret said. She wanted to go with them, but knew that there was no way Regina would be able to lead 5 to the convent. Emma nodded at them.

"Come on, we need to go." Henry gripped Regina, who in turn grabbed a hold of August. Emma flanked his other side and closed her eyes, letting her worry and anxiety to help him power the transport.

They all fell to the floor in a heap. Emma, Regina, and Henry quickly stood up to get off of August. With the loud commotion, Mother Superior came running into the room.

"Regina, Emma, Henry," she greeted breathlessly, before her eyes fell upon the man lying restless on the floor. "August," she breathed, feeling that her eyes were betraying her.

"What's happened?" she asked the trio. Emma's face was grave.

"We were hoping you could maybe tell us." Without a word, Blue took out her wand and levitated the man towards a bed near the window. Henry rushed over to help and pulled the sheets and blankets back. Once situated, Blue lowered August onto the bed as carefully as she could. She observed the sweat glistening on August's face.

"We need to cool him down." She flicked her wand and his jacket was suddenly off and lying on the back of a chair. She swiped again, and his sweater, jeans, and boots were gone, leaving him in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. She waved her wand over him, her face tight in concentration. After what seemed like a few minutes, she ended, her face grim.

She didn't know if he would make it. She tried to count the number of times he had been changed, either by form, age, or both, by magic. She lost count at six or seven. Plus, it seemed that he had been tortured. She laid her hand upon his forehead, frowning at the heat, and at his still slightly listless sleep.

"He's been through a lot," she said towards the waiting visitors. Emma had pulled up a chair beside him, again, with one hand on his arm, and the other covering his own hand. Her face showed total loss and confusion.

"What's happening?" Emma began, her gaze never leaving the man's face. "First he was awake, then he passed out…" she trailed off, as he took another shaky, unconscious breath. She noticed then that his mouth was open, breathing through it and not his nose. Regina had realized the same thing, and unfortunately knew that it had to be a side effect of the potion Gold had given him to make his nose grow. Blue rested her hand on his forehead again.

"He's been changed by magic many times," she said, by way of an answer. Emma tried not to get frustrated. She had hoped for something a little more elaborate, a little more specific. She continued. "For him to survive this, he will need to be very strong." She knew it was not the answer Emma had wanted to hear.

"We have a bigger problem," Regina suddenly said. Henry, Regina, and Emma all went out to the hallway, leaving Blue with August. Blue then inspected him a bit more. She lifted his arm and felt his bones and muscles tensing and releasing. The same was happening to his legs, she could feel it through his bed sheets. It made sense then. She rested her hand upon his chest, and could feel the hitching, the turmoil within. Her face grew even more grim, as she understood the severity of the situation. She sat beside him and looked lovingly at him.

"Oh, Pinocchio," she whispered so no one could hear her. "You have come so far. Don't lose faith, stay strong." There came no reply, just the continued unsteady and painful breathing. She stayed by his bedside for a few more minutes before Emma and Henry walked back in, without Regina.

"How is he?" Emma asked, in hopes that there would already be some form of improvement.

"No change," Blue said, standing up. Her face let on to Emma, however, that she knew more than she was saying.

"Mother Superior? What's wrong with him?" Emma asked, making her way back to the chair she was in before.

"I don't know entirely for sure. But, place your hand on his arm, pressing down gently," Blue directed. Emma followed her instructions, and her eyes grew wide.

"What's happening to him?" she asked, feeling the arm tense and relax repeatedly, and his bones almost vibrate.

"My best guess, is that when he was turned into an adult once more, while his outside changed instantly, the insides are trying to catch up, if that makes sense."

"Yeah, it does," Emma answered, now checking his leg. "It's-it's almost like a 20 year growth spurt all in one day." She frowned as her hand rested on his chest. "Even his heart and chest are growing." Blue nodded. "And, when my parents ushered him out of Gold's cabin, he almost staggered. That must have been from his legs and hips not being able to support him yet." While far-fetched, it seemed plausible, and quite honestly, as far as August was concerned, this wasn't the most ridiculous thing to happen to him.

"I hate to ask you this, but, can you please call my parents and Marco and let them know what's happening?" Emma asked her, afraid to leave him just yet.

"Of course," Blue answered, laying a hand upon her shoulder. "Talk to him. He may not be able to answer, but he may be able to listen." She left the room to make the phone calls. Emma knew that once Blue called Marco, she wouldn't have much alone time left with him. She saw Henry looking at him, eyes incredibly sad.

"Hey, kid, why don't you wait out front for Marco for when he gets here. He doesn't live too far away. You can show him where we are." Henry didn't really want to go, but he could see the way Emma was looking at him, and he knew that, just like the first curse, she was blaming herself. He quietly left the room, leaving Emma to sit forlornly beside August.

She felt his forehead herself, smoothing away the hair, and resting her palm on his scruffy cheek. His head listed back and forth once more, and his face twisted into a grimace.

"August," she whispered, looking into his twitching face. "Please hang in there. I need you. I'm sorry." She rested her head on top of their hands that were currently resting on his chest. She was reminded of how she had done a similar thing the last time he lay dying. She stayed with him for another 10 minutes, just listening to his ragged breathing, willing, each time, for there to be another. It meant he was fighting.

Marco and Henry came bursting through the door.

"My boy!" he called out, rushing to August, tears in his eyes. "Why must it always be you?" He sat on the other side of him taking August's free hand in his own. "How is he?" he asked Emma.

"No different," Emma replied, looking down at her friend. "Marco, I'm sorry. We tried to get to him as quickly as we could." Deep down, she knew they were more to blame than that. If it hadn't been for Regina going undercover, maybe they could have prevented Pinocchio being kidnapped. But a small selfish part of her was glad that August went through what he did. She had missed him, more than she knew, and now that he was back, not as a child, she couldn't wait to have him in her life again.

"I understand. Thank you for getting him out of there." Emma just nodded. The silence was broken by August letting out pained and gasping grunts. His eyes darted from underneath his eyelids, and his head and torso began thrashing. He gave it a small yell, his eyes remaining closed.

"Pinocchio!"

"August!" Emma and Marco cried out together, but he did not awake. Henry ran out of the room without being asked and brought Mother Superior back into the room.

"What's wrong with him?" Henry said, keeping a bit of a distance. Mother Superior looked horrified.

"He's awake," she answered sadly. "He's going through this awake now." Marco and Emma had been trying to pin him down to prevent him from further harm.

"Can't you do something?" Emma almost sobbed, the sounds of August's cries being too much to bear.

Mother Superior raised her wand and waved it across the man. Slowly, his eyelids stopped twitching, and his violent movement ended. His head still tossed slightly in discomfort, but in general, he had stilled. His breathing was still weak and pained, but it was not as harsh as it had been. Henry, Marco, and Emma looked at her.

"It's a mild sleeping spell. It won't last long, but hopefully it will be long enough for this stretch of growing to pass." She conjured up a cold compress and placed it upon his forehead. "However, he is not out of danger." Before Emma could answer, her phone rang. She answered it, and walked out into the hallway.

"Emma?" her mother's voice greeted her.

"Hey, mom."

"Emma, I hate to ask you to do this, but I need you to come home," Mary Margaret said.

"Come home? Why?" Emma asked, not wanting to know why. She wanted to stay with August, keep watch over him.

"Hook called. He needs to talk to all of us. Something about Gold's plan. He's coming over." Emma sighed.

"Fine, I'll be there soon." She hung up and walked back into the room.

"Kid, we gotta go," Emma said, almost bitterly. She walked to August and leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his hot forehead.

"I'll be back soon," she told him softly. Henry just patted the man's shoulder and followed his mother out. Soon enough, Emma and Henry were walking back to the loft.

"Mom, you okay?" Henry asked.

"Yeah," she answered simply.

"Is he going to be okay?" She put his arm around him and pulled him close.

"I hope so."


End file.
